All That Glitters
by mary ali cullen
Summary: Image is everything & everything is replacable for the sake of it, even people. This is the story of life for the wealthy and the skeletons in their closet. Mr. Brandon Blair is Alice's father but according to him Alice's mental illness has tarnished the family name and that cannot be. To what depth will he go to in the name of perfection? Where does that leave Alice?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This was inspired by the fic Acceptance In Hard times by yurifangirl 15. As she did, I also had to change some names (obviously backstories and such) to make them time appropriate and make things make sense. All twilight characters are a product of SM's genius. This is set sometime in the early 1900s so AU, and some OOC. Enjoy! As of yesterday (April 29) I have a Beta; the awesome CaramelApple74! I am reposted edited chapters so sorry about the false excitement of an update but those will be coming too so bare with me:)**

It has been a few days since my parents died, and the prestigious Mr. Blair is now bringing me into his home. Upon entering the large, grand estate, I can't help but marvel at all the fine décor. It all looks so expensive and delicate, so I try not to get too close to anything for fear of breaking it.

A young woman with honey colored hair escorts me to what is to be my room, keeping her head down, determined not to look me in the eye. "I've been told to help you get ready for dinner."

"You can look me in the eye, it is alright." I say in my most encouraging voice.

She looks conflicted for a moment, but then raises her gaze. When her eyes meet mine I can see that their a lovely hazel, and complement hair and skin tone perfectly.

"There, isn't that better?" I ask giving her a warm smile. "What is your name?"

"Esme." She answers, returning my smile. "You must be Miss Isabelle."

"Please, call me Bella."

"Well, Bella, I've also been instructed to be your nurse and help with your deportment until you are comfortable in your new life in the upper class."

In the past week, I have learned that there is, in fact, a difference between the middle and upper class; those of the upper class dress up for dinner, and image is everything.

After having my first dinner in the estate, father takes me to his study to speak with me on such matters. I listen attentively to everything he has to say, not wanting to miss a thing.

"As you know, I'm throwing a welcome tea for you tomorrow afternoon to introduce you to the town. I expect nothing less than your utmost behavior." He says, pointing to a portrait on the far wall of an elderly man with a humorous looking wig. "We must never do anything to disgrace this man. This is your grandfather, Russell Claude Blair II. He laid the foundation for what we have now."

"I understand father, and I will not disappoint you." I tell him solemnly.

He nods and dismisses me for the night.

The Next Day

I wake in a large, plush canopy bed with the sun shining through my windows. I get up and stretch, taking in my new bedroom and everything in it. I have been here a week and still think about how different this is than the home I know and love.

On the trunk at the foot of the bed lays a yellow dress with frills, a big bow for my hair, lace gloves, and shoes. I stare at them in awe until Esme comes in, not having worn anything like this in my life.

"I've been told to help you get ready for this afternoon. You picked out a lovely outfit, dear." Esme smiles.

"Well, I didn…uh… thank you." I stammer. I don't want her to think I am mad telling her that I just woke up to find it here.

Esme and I continue to talk about ourselves, and she helps me with everything until I am already for the tea.

"Thank you Esme." I say before leaving my room to join the festivities in the backyard.

Walking near some older women with extraordinary hats, I overhear them conversing about my new family and I.

"Didn't the Blair's have another daughter?" One of the women asks.

"I certainly thought so, but I heard she was ill for quite some time and no one ever saw her again. No one even mentions her. Do you suppose she has passed on?" Another woman comments as she places a gloved hand over her mouth.

"I hear that she suffers from a mental ailment and has been committed."

I had never heard of a daughter. Did I have a sister? And if so, why would the family hide her?

Noticing my presence, the women abruptly stop their conversation, looking rather embarrassed for being caught gossiping. I give a small smile to both of them and continue passing them.

Before I could continue pondering the possibility of a hidden sister, Esme finds me and tells me that my father said to remember to properly thank my guests. At that statement my throat becomes dry. The thought of me speaking in front of all these ladies terrifies me, but I know I must.

Clearing my throat, I step more towards the front of everyone and begin to speak. "Excuse me ladies, may I have your attention?" I wait for them to quiet down, then take a deep breath to steady myself and put on my best smile. "I would just like to thank you all for your attendance at this tea. I would also like to thank my new family for hosting such an event. Please enjoy the music, the tea, and the excellent desserts."

Light clapping begins, causing my cheeks to redden. I look down and walk away while hearing people talk about me. Someone taps me on my shoulder, and I turn to see a stunning blonde in a peach dress with a high lace collar, dark pink sash, and short puffed sleeves. Her curly golden locks cascade down her back with a big silk bow tying it into a half ponytail. She looks like the definition of wealth and beauty.

"Hello, my name is Rose Hale."

She holds out her fingertips and I take them in mine and give a light squeeze.

"Isabelle Blair. It is a pleasure to meet you."

I let go of her hand and I gesture for us to sit at a table. "So what do you think of your new family?" She starts, looking perfectly at ease.

I shift slightly under the weight of her gaze. "They are…um…" I bit my bottom lip trying to sum up my first impression. "Well I haven't really gotten to know them, but it was very kind of them to take me in, and they have been very generous."

She nods, and her face turns serious. "I'm sorry on the circumstances in which you came here."

"Thank you for your condolences, it has been quite an adjustment."

"I know you just met me, but if you ever need anything please do not hesitate to talk to me."

Even though I am just meeting Rose Hale, something about her tells me I can trust her.

**AN: I know this is kind of an awkward place to stop but its late and this just kind of came to me. Read and Review please:)**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I see that are plenty of people are view the story and I even have my first favorite and follow, that is so exciting! I hope to see some reviews to know what you all are thinking: even it's one sentence saying that you like it or you don't and why, maybe even predictions on what you think will happen or should happen.**

"I'm proud of you, Bella. I could hardly tell you were nervous at all." Esme says while helping me get out of the fancy clothing from earlier. "But remember your carriage next time; you looked timid, and the upper class women are like sharks. They will eat you alive if they smell fear."

At that I have to laugh, because they do seem rather viscous. "I became acquainted with a Rose Hale tonight."

"Oh, really? I have to say that I'm a bit surprised." She says while brushing my hair.

At my confused look she continues. "I mean no offense to you, it's just that young Miss Hale tends to be on their end of things. She is what your father dreams of you becoming; a trophy daughter of sorts. She's…"

"The definition of wealth and beauty." I finish for her, repeating my first sentiments.

Esme nods letting out the breath she had drawn. "If you really want to impress your father, stick with her, she can give you field practice."

"Does that mean I do not have to continue my French lessons?" I ask hopefully, looking at Esme through the vanity mirror.

"Non, ma chérie. While Rose can correct your behavior and speech in the setting itself, you still need to have something to contribute other than your presence. You don't want to be one of those pushover women who are seen and not heard, do you?" She continues when she sees the conformation she's looking for on my face. "You will continue to study music, dance, fine works of literature, and be well verse in foreign languages."

I groan and lethargically climb into the giant bed and drown myself in the covers.

Esme laughs lightly and kisses me on the head. "Bonne nuit et fais de beaux rêves, ma Bella."

"Dors bien Esme." I say.

She turns out the light and quietly exits the room, letting the door close with a soft click.

Drifting in out of sleep, I hear the door creak open. Not conscious enough to question it, I continue to fade in and out of dreams of this supposed other daughter. I feel the feeling of being watched, before what sounds like rustling of fabric, and then the door being shut. In what had to have been the times I was fully asleep I saw images of a girl with short hair in disarray being tortured in a dark, dingy room. Screams and chains clanging followed by maniacal laughter filled the air, leaving behind an aura of sheer distress.

The next morning I wake up to a grey cloud cover blocking the warm rays that greet me every morning. With the words of those gossiping ladies still echoing in my head, I get out of bed to find yet another outfit already waiting for me in its usual place. I think I will try to put together my own attire today. Opening the rosewood bureau, I am instantly overwhelmed with the array of styles, colors, and textures. I have never really felt the need to look in here since I have always been given what to wear. Deciding to just be thankful for whoever takes the time to coordinate all of this for me, I concede to wearing what has already been placed out for me.

I go through my long day of lessons, lunch, more lessons, and dinner with father and limited conversation. The only conversation we make with each other is my progress in my lessons and his work. I mention my becoming acquainted with Rose Hale at the tea, and with that he is thrilled…well, what appears to be thrilled by his standards of expression. After dinner we sit in the living room with father smoking his pipe and reading the newspaper. I read the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: A Scandal in Bohemia written by Arthur Conan Doyle. I know it is not typical ladylike literature, but I have never really been fond of the notion that men should be allowed to know about action and adventure while us women are to know about romance and the fine arts. I just like to be well rounded, and besides, between the mystery stylist and this supposed other daughter I know there are some mysteries going on here, and I am determined to solve them.

**_French Translations_**_: Non ma chérie- No my sweet or darling (really just a term of endearment) Bonne nuit et fais de beaux rêves- Good night and sweet dreams, Dors bien- Sleep well_

**AN: I have never actually read The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes but here's to Sherlock Bella!**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: It's been a little while since my last update I know but I've been trying to spend time with people before I go back to college which I've also been stressing over like mad. **

More days pass, and with new found determination I am ever more vigilant. Esme and I become closer; she is very nurturing. As I get ready for bed, Esme comes in to help me and talk.

"Esme, if you do not mind me asking, why are you here…being a servant of sorts?" I ask.

"Well, I don't like to think of myself as a servant, instead a domestic maybe. My family, while not being destitute, was never particularly wealthy, and when I thought I met the love of my life who would provide for me he turned out to care more about what people thought than he cared about me. Sound like someone else we know?"

I nod and let her continue.

"…We had a child together, and that was the catalyst of the end for us." Esme takes in my shocked expression and answers my unspoken question. "He was out of my life as quickly as he came when he found out about the pregnancy. Not that it really mattered since I lost the baby. I was so young and foolish, and he was the mysterious older man who whispered sweet nothings in my ear. He later married someone in his own social standing."

I cannot hold back my tears anymore as a single tear rolls down Esme's rose kissed cheek. Reaching out to wipe it away with the back of my hand, I look into her eyes and see so much pain. I give her a firm hug. We stay that way for a long moment before she pulls away and sighs.

"As to why I'm here," Esme starts, "The lady of the house brought me in to help when she was in a more… delicate state."

Before I can question her on this 'delicate state' I am ready for bed and she is almost towing me towards it.

"I can tell that there is more that you want to know, but honestly it's not all mine to tell. And besides, some secrets are best kept. We will talk more to tomorrow."

With that we exchange our usual nightly words, and Esme rids the room of light, save for the moonlight filtering in. I nestle in for the night, burrowing down deep under the covers.

Sometime during my slumber, I hear a familiar rustling of fabric and soft padded steps. I also feel the feeling of being watched again. This time I am more aware. I open my eyes fully, and slowly move for more light. Once the room glows a little brighter, I see a worn girl who looks roughly the same age as me. Her clothes are tattered and ill-fitting, leaving her barely covered translucent skin to glow. Her frame is almost sickly frail, and her raven hair is short and sticking out in every direction. The girl looks almost feral. The expression in her jade colored eyes is that of despair, anger, and something I cannot place. I can almost feel the roller-coaster of emotions, and it makes me almost flinch.

The girl turns to cross the room and leave when I make a dash out of bed, nearly losing my balance in the entangled covers. I gently grab her wrist, silently asking her to stay. She looks back at me for a moment before deciding something and moving to sit on the trunk at the end of my bed beside the clothes.

We stare at eachother for a few more moments before I finally ask in a whisper, "Who are you?"

Her voice is dry and crackles as if seldomly used. "Mary Alice."

"The one who lays the clothes out for me." I added, gesturing to clothes next to her on the bench.

She nods softly.

"I'm Isabelle, Bella." I say to introduce myself.

"I know."

**AN: while I have not read the Sherlock Holmes novels I have been watching the BBC show Sherlock (which is totally awesome!) and have acted in a murder mystery play, not that that's really helped me in writing this at all lol. Your reviews would help a great deal though so please leave some. **


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I'd like to give very special thank you's to all who have favorited this story and me, are following this story, the reviewers (my first which is so completely awsome!), and even those who took the time to check out this story. I apologize for time between updates but inspiration can sometimes be hard to come by.**

"Isabella. Isabella, it's time to wake up. Time to wake up." Esme says, gleefully imitating the birds and mice from my favorite children's book Cinderella, or what she had me read, Cendrillon: la Petite Pantoufle de verre.

"I am awake." I mumble, shuffling from my slumber.

Esme guides me over to the vanity where she begins to primp me for the day. "You look awful, dear." She pokes and prods at my face.

"I did not acquire much sleep." I answer.

"Well, I can see that. We'll have to do something about these bags under your eyes."

With that, she sets out to find ice that she wraps in a towel to rid the swelling from under my eyes. After she is satisfied with my appearance, it's lunch (as I had missed breakfast). Afterwards, off to shop with Rose. Father was all too thrilled when I mentioned wanting to spend more time with her, and he even gave me a considerable allowance. I think part of me really just wanted to get out of that house for a bit to have some fresh air and a change of company.

"What about this one?"

I seem to have been caught in my own musings. I look to a rather nice designer hat Rose is holding up and smile. "It is lovely, but everything you put on is."

"Not for me, for you." She giggles, placing it on my head and turning me towards the mirror.

"I cannot purchase this."

"And why not?" She raises a perfectly arched eyebrow at me. "Look Bella, it is almost an insult for people in our social standing to walk in and out of a store and not purchase anything."

"But it is not my money, it is the families. Besides, I do not need it."

"That thinking is for the poor. You have your needs met, right? Well what now? We move on to the wants. Anyway, that family is your family now; you have their last name and live in their house." Rose says, trying her best to persuade me to purchase the hat.

After seeing that I'm almost convinced she continues. "Think of it this way; the money is in your purse right now, and this is wealthy families' way of spending bonding time together. We do not always get the luxury of really being in each other's lives the way some others do with all of the business trips and such, but when we spend their money we look nice when they need us to, and they notice in a good way. The sad fact is that we are advertising for our families' names, but when we do our jobs well, we get rewarded with some resemblance of normality."

I took in the information Rose had said, and with a sigh I conceded to my fate, this new reality.

As the shopping trip came to a close, I ended up with new hats, gloves, shoes, and dresses. I had to admit that while I may not necessarily like shopping I do like spending time with my new and only friend. If anyone can help me get through this it is her. I can not necessarily tell, however, if she actually likes this life or if she is simply use to it and does not dislike it as I do.

Later That Day

Dinner is served in its usual silence, and then we retire to the living room where father listens to the radio and I read another Sherlock Holmes novel. As I thumb through pages a note falls out.

"Did you enjoy your time out and about?" Father asks with a glint in his eye.

I jump slightly at hearing him speak to me for the first time today. I nonchalantly slip the note back into the book, deciding it something best kept for later.

"Why, yes. Rose is a rather lovely person." I answer, smiling fondly.

"I am delighted to see you making friends with the right sort from the get go. I can see it already; you will be a regular socialite just like your mother."

I give a meek smile and let him continue to internally reminisce about his late wife. This is the first he has mentioned of mother. Esme won't even really talk to me about her, and I've never seen any sort of photograph of her.

I use father's distraction to peek at the note. The linear scrawl reads "in the study." I have no idea what it's supposed to be referring to, or who it's from for that matter. The only way I see to find out is to follow the clue.

I wait until after the goodnights are exchanged between me and Esme before sneaking out in search for answers. Walking into the study, I don't exactly know what it is I am to be looking for. I glance at the shelves and see a vast array of books on history, philosophy, and medicine. This isn't a study, it's a library. If anything, this is definitely a learned family.

While amazed at all of the books, I notice a few worn, unmarked books seemingly tucked away. Curiosity gets the best of me and I pull one out and examine it. The initials "K.E.B" are etched on the front cover. I flip through a few pages before realizing it as someone's diary. In the back there are folder papers. I unfold one and discover it is a marriage certificate. On May 15th, Katherine Elizabeth Hastings, age twenty-one, married Brandon Blair, age twenty-five. I look through the other diaries and find pictures, a death certificate, and a birth certificate. The birth certificate was for Mary Alice, and the date matched the one on death certificate for Katherine. The cause of death appeared to be massive blood loss due to complications during childbirth. So Alice was…is…their daughter.

Staying up half the night, I read through the books, trying to get a better sense of what my would-be mother was like. She seemed very kind hearted and intelligent. The diaries start when she wed and moved into this house, and go up to the day before the date printed on the death certificate. So much information, but so little time. I have to get back to bed before anyone discovers my absence. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I am fast asleep.

**AN: Again sorry about the wait. In the rush to update there may be more mistakes than usual. I hope you still enjoy. Reviews are, as always encouraged. **


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